


A Moment in Madness

by Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-The Adventures of Charls, The Adventures of Charls spoilers, also Fluff without Plot, really i can't emphasise enough the lack of plot, so naturally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:13:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum/pseuds/Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum
Summary: "We're truly equals now," said Laurent, shifting, still wrapped in the loose embrace of Damen's arms around his lower back, just enough distance between them for Laurent to look up into Damen's eyes. There was so much warmth in Laurent's gaze Damen thought he might melt in it."We were always equals."In which Damen and Laurent find some quiet together after the ascension, because The Adventures of Charls punched me in the face with feelings.





	A Moment in Madness

The coronation had lasted the better part of a week. Days of ceremony and celebration, of gilded parades down petal-scattered streets lined with cheering crowds, of watching proudly from the side as Laurent at long last took his true title.

It had lasted a week, but it felt like much longer. Months of preparation had gone into it, every detail planned to the finest point, and as much as Damen had resented the near-constant interference from Laurent's council, he had to admit their efforts had been worth it. The people of Vere and Akielos needed some kind of merriment to bring them together. Laurent was still not well liked south of the border, Damen knew, but there was nothing like the opportunity to drink, and feast, to soften hard hearts.

The celebrations themselves had not been nearly as ostentatious as Damen had feared. They were grand, certainly, everything from Laurent to his court to the walls of Marlas themselves adorned and embellished to honour the occasion, the halls filled with music and the smells of fine, roasted meats, but compared to what Damen had come to expect from Vere, the coronation had been positively refined. It was Laurent's doing, he suspected, from the memories of Laurent returning to their chambers late at night, exhausted by an evening spent arguing with his council, but wearing a familiar expression of satisfaction at getting his own way.

Tonight, though, as the moon continued its rise into the ink-stained sky and the hours ticked on, Laurent had still not returned. The final rites of the ascension had officially ended hours before, though the celebrations throughout the fort and the town beyond seemed fit to go on through the night. Perhaps Damen would return to join them before the sun rose. It would be proper, for Vere's new Akielon allies to partake in all of the week's celebrations — yet even if it would not be considered so, Damen did feel some yearning to wander through the streets he could see winding out across the landscape from the vantage of his window, to enjoy the flowing wine and the contagious laughter, to watch Laurent's people celebrate his ascension with the same pride that swelled in Damen's chest.

For now, however, he had a more personal need to fulfil.

He glanced from the window, and the sounds of gaiety drifting up through it, when the door scraped open. Laurent slipped into the room, still clad in his ceremonial finery, the delicate golden crown perched atop his head glinting in the candlelight. There was an easy smile on his face that widened when he met Damen's eyes.

"It's true," said Damen. He rose from his chair and took a step closer to Laurent. "It is hard to gain audience with a king."

"You've had a pressing need for my presence, have you?"

Damen smiled. "Always."

It was especially true of late. Between the pressures of Damen's own fledgling kingship and the meticulous planning Laurent's ascension had required, not to mention the demands of uniting two nations whose subjects by and large wished to remain as divided as possible, Damen and Laurent had had little chance to catch more than the occasional moment together in too long. Their time on the road with Charls had offered them rare opportunity to simply enjoy one another's company much like they used to, but even then their chance to reconnect had been marred by the severity of the task that had drawn them from the palace.

Now, though. Now they were free to embark on their life together as it should be. As free as they were ever to be, at least. It wasn't much, but Damen would take it as a win.

They met in the middle of the room — modest by the standards they were used to in Ios and Arles, but still a grander space than many of the thousands crammed into the town had to enjoy — and Damen gazed down at Laurent, standing close enough to kiss. "How do you feel?"

Laurent's fine brow creased a little, in thought. He had a rare look of uncertainty about him. "I'm not sure," he replied, after a moment's contemplation.

"You look different."

"I do?"

Damen's fingers caressed Laurent's cheek. He leaned into the touch with a softness that was reserved for only Damen. Damen had not yet grown tired of the privilege of witnessing it, this side to Laurent that none even knew existed.

He hoped he never would.

"You look like a king."

"Well, I'd hope so." There was a cutting edge to the words, but a teasing one, and Laurent looked back up at Damen with impish amusement in his eyes. The feeling was catching.

"You'll have to begin acting like one now," said Damen.

"Yes. You'll have to teach me. Tell me, what is the proper way to avoid detection by trusted advisers when slipping in disguise into their palaces?"

Damen's laugh joined those floating up from the celebrations below, which somehow seemed too close and a world away all at once, and he pulled Laurent flush against him. The silk of his ivory jacket was cool beneath Damen's palms.

Laurent licked his lips in anticipation for a kiss, and the sight alone fuelled fresh desire for Damen to grant him one, and another, and thousands more upon every inch of him, but Damen made no move besides touching his forehead gently to Laurent's. Moments such as this had been hard to come by; despite his baser instincts crying out for Damen to take full advantage of having Laurent all to himself at last, for a time, at least, Damen was going to enjoy the quiet.

"We're truly equals now," said Laurent, shifting, still wrapped in the loose embrace of Damen's arms around his lower back, just enough distance between them for Laurent to look up into Damen's eyes. There was so much warmth in Laurent's gaze Damen thought he might melt in it.

"We were always equals."

Laurent looked up at him with a smile in his eyes. He moved in close again, close enough for Damen to feel the warmth of his skin, to breathe in the last vestiges of the fragrant oils he'd been slathered with before being dressed that morning, struggling to compete against the scents of strong grain alcohol clinging to him. The kyroi had found him tonight, it seemed. Damen was surprised Laurent was still standing.

"My king," Damen said against Laurent's lips, and brushed them with his own, reverent as befitted Laurent's station. Reverent as had always befitted Laurent.

One kiss melted into another, so smoothly that it was hard to tell where one ended and the next began, each satisfied noise that escaped Laurent prompting Damen to go in search of more. He wasn't sure how long they stayed entwined before the desire to keep exchanging those tender kisses progressed into a more urgent need; long enough that when they finally parted fully and Damen filled his lungs again the world seemed to rock and spin under his feet as if he was stood atop a boat on roiling seas rather than the heavy stone of the fort. His grip tightened on Laurent's waist while the momentary dizziness passed.

"Too much for you?" Laurent said with a smile that suggested he was cataloguing that information away somewhere he could return to it when needed.

"I have been a little out of practice, of late."

"Yes. I've heard about what you are capable of at your best." There was a touch of jealousy in his tone, if Damen was not mistaken.

Damen grinned. His fingers slipped to the high neck of Laurent's jacket and worked open the first of the laces, practice guiding his fingers without him needing to glance downwards. "We'll work up to it slowly," he said. Certainly tonight he planned to take his time.

He might have to, regardless of desire, he realised, as he began to work his way down Laurent's ceremonial garb. His growing familiarity with unlacing the constricting layers of Veretian clothing abandoned him after he'd exposed no more than the pale column of Laurent's throat. This was grander and more ornamental than anything Damen had encountered before. His own coronation dress had featured only the addition of a long cloak over his chiton, neither of which Laurent had had any trouble removing afterwards.

Laurent's smirk was audible when he spoke. "Shall I help?"

"No." Damen had watched a gaggle of attendants sew Laurent into his outfit this morning; he could work this out himself.

He didn't need to look up to know Laurent was watching his struggle with unconstrained amusement. His refusal to look up from the intricate web of golden lacing would only fuel that amusement, but at least by watching what he was doing he might progress further in the task than if he met Laurent's eyes again. Damen did his best to keep the frown from his face, to ignore the frequent chuckle of laughter that shook Laurent's chest beneath Damen's fingers, and after a number of false starts in determining which sets of laces were ornamental and which were actually keeping the garment fastened in place, Damen had managed to free Laurent of his outer jacket.

Before Damen could reach for the neck of Laurent's shirt, Laurent reached a hand up to the crown still atop his head. "No," Damen said, and when Laurent shot him a curious look in response: "Keep it on."

Laurent's mouth twisted a little, into some diminutive smile, Damen hoped, though it was impossible to tell for sure. Either way, Laurent obliged Damen. He dropped his arms loosely to his sides, and let Damen work him out of his shirt, and his boots, and his trousers, until the only thing he wore was that gilded crown.

Damen was on his feet again in an instant, wrenched upwards by Laurent's hands, eager to free Damen of his own clothes. He had a much simpler task in doing so than Damen had. There was the slightest of chills in the spring evening air, yet Damen doubted he would have noticed even the bitterest wind with Laurent's warmth close against his bare chest and his lips on Damen's again. The kisses for kissing's sake were gone now; each kiss they shared, bodies pressed naked together, was a plea; a proclamation; a promise.

Still wrapped in each other's arms, they made their way blindly towards the bed. Only when Damen felt the tickle of the soft gossamer canopy against his arm did he break their kiss. Immediately Laurent moved in for another, and Damen was inclined to indulge him.

"Tell me what you want," said Damen, the words a ghost on Laurent's skin as Damen mouthed his way along Laurent's sharp jawbone and down his neck. He could feel Laurent's pulse hammering out its accelerating rhythm against his lips.

Laurent paused in consideration. "Lie back on the bed."

"You want to do all the work?"

"Oh, I fully expect you to do your share."

Heart hammering, body thrumming in anticipation, Damen did as Laurent commanded, and then Laurent was climbing atop him. Firm, alabaster thighs framed Damen's flanks. Damen pressed his hands to them, and nudged Laurent closer. From this distance, he could press his tongue to the tip of Laurent's stiffened cock.

He did exactly that.

Laurent sucked in a breath, one hand sliding into Damen's hair and tangling in the curls for purchase while the other reached beyond the scope of Damen's vision. Grasping the headboard, he suspected. Already his thighs were beginning to tremble against Damen's sides, before Damen had taken more than an inch into his mouth. Damen gave them a reassuring squeeze, silent permission for Laurent to rest more of his weight into Damen's palms, to let Damen take care of his every need, and he widened his jaw to let more of Laurent glide into him.

The moan that it earned him sent a bolt of searing, white-hot heat through him as if he'd been branded. Damen repeated the motion, and again, closing his eyes and falling into the rhythm of it, until Laurent's fingers in his hair tightened to the point of pain, and he pulled Damen back.

"That's enough," he said, his voice coarse.

Damen let Laurent's cock slide against his tongue as he pulled back to meet Laurent's gaze. "Is it?"

"I have other plans for you. I thought you might enjoy those better."

"Tonight isn't about my enjoyment," replied Damen, his hand sliding to Laurent's inner thigh and travelling upwards in a caress just light enough to emphasise his point.

Laurent's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, before he managed to reclaim his composure. "No; it's about mine," he said, and as he spoke he shifted backwards to bring his face down to Damen's, their chests flush. "And I very much enjoy feeling your cock inside me."

By this point, Damen should perhaps have learned not to blush at Laurent's crude summations of their lovemaking, but still he felt the heat rise to his cheeks, as it seemed to rise throughout his body. He swallowed thickly, while Laurent occupied himself leaving a trail of wet, hungry kisses across Damen's skin.

"If you insist," he breathed, and Laurent rose with a grin.

"I do."

He was gone and back with a bottle of oil clutched in his hand, climbing atop Damen once again, with the enthusiasm of a boy to whom sex was still a wonderful novelty, and gazing up at him like that, candlelight flickering across his fair skin, long eyelashes brushing his arousal-pinked cheeks, Damen was struck by how young Laurent still was in some ways. Despite the cynicism and cunning carved into him by years surrounded by the serpents of the Veretian court, despite the tongue that could cut down men twice Laurent's age — and had — there was still a shred of innocence to him, a perfect, delicate ghost of the boy he'd once been. To think he now stood King, soon to unite an empire, brought a fresh swell of pride to Damen's chest.

He reached up to cup Laurent's cheek, and Laurent pressed a soft kiss to his palm, holding it with his own as if it was made of the finest crystal. Laurent's other hand reached behind him, and something wet, and, cool, and tight, closed around Damen's cock. Laurent grinned at Damen's surprised hitch of breath. He nipped playfully at Damen's palm.

"Some warning would have been nice."

"I thought you liked surprises," replied Laurent. The virtue in his tone didn't suit him.

"I don't."

Laurent's eyes flashed with fresh mischief, entirely too pleased with himself for Damen's liking, though it was difficult to hold on to his exasperation when Laurent's hand was still sliding up and down Damen's cock, the heat of his palm warming the cold oil. Damen rocked his hips into it until Laurent pulled away. The look on his face as he resettled himself told Damen exactly what was coming, and his cock throbbed in anticipation.

"I love you," Damen said, as Laurent lowered himself down on Damen, engulfing him completely with typical determination, "King Laurent."

A smile flashed across Laurent's face, warm enough to chase away every last trace of winter from here to the Northern Forests. He dropped down to gift Damen another kiss, their hips beginning their slow, tandem circling. "I've missed you this week."

Damen nodded. He'd spent as much of the week as he'd been allowed at Laurent's side, yet it felt as if they'd been parted by a span of miles. With barely a chance to exchange words, or a kiss, it felt as if they'd been parted for months.

Laurent pressed one more brief kiss to Damen's lips for good measure, and he was up, the momentary tenderness they'd shared gone as quickly as it had come upon them.

"So," Laurent began, snapping his hips with growing speed, hands splayed flat across Damen's chest to keep him from surging upwards and scooping Laurent into his arms as he had a mind to, Damen clutching Laurent's hips like a lifeline, "hours?"

"I won't last that long tonight." That was perhaps a safer comment than any other he might make, unsure of whether Laurent felt some real bitterness at the thought of Damen's past lovers, or simply enjoyed watching Damen squirm. Both seemed equally plausible.

"No, of course not."

It was becoming harder to concentrate on words now, the pressure building low in Damen's gut consuming him as his and Laurent movements were increasingly fuelled by instinct alone, their voices coming out breathless and strained, hands grasping at each other with the desperation of long-lost lovers. But there was something in Laurent's tone that crept through the cloud of arousal and made Damen frown.

"What makes you say that?"

Laurent looked back down at him with a grin. "I am a king," he said. "It's only natural to be overwhelmed."

The laugh that bubbled forth from deep within Damen's chest melted into a sharp groan at the sudden, tight clench of muscle around his cock. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and compose himself before he became a true embarrassment to the more impressive records of his capabilities in the bedroom, breathed deep, and swallowed. "You realise," he said, opening his eyes, "that now we both stand as kings, people will expect us to start behaving ourselves."

"People have always expected me to behave myself," Laurent said, as if every single one of those people should have known better.

He shifted in place again, the change in angle pushing Damen's cock deeper into the sweet confines of Laurent's body and causing his own to sing with fresh pleasure, and, displaced by too many energetic movements already, Laurent's crown slipped too far down his forehead to remain in place any longer. Only Laurent's fast reflexes kept the heavy gold from dropping down to collide with Damen's nose. Damen wouldn't have been able to react in time if he had even tried.

Laurent slid the crown back into place, fingertips of one hand resting against its jewelled base to keep it atop his head. "I don't believe this was designed for activities like these."

"Perhaps we should have you crafted a more practical one."

"Or perhaps I could have one designed to match yours."

Damen's hips stilled for a moment. The image unfurled in his mind, of Laurent sat straight-backed in a throne beside Damen, laurels of honey-yellow Akielon gold nestled against his hair, glowing in the high sun of the Akielon summer. It was a beautiful picture.

"Perhaps," he said, with a smile, as Laurent's movements atop him forced him to recommence his own thrusts, his hand curling around the flushed head of Laurent's cock.

"And a Veretian crown of your own."

"Yes." The word was a gasp. Damen wasn't sure if it was in response to Laurent's words or to the sensations overwhelming him, his body spasming beneath Laurent as his end swiftly approached. He moved his hand faster on Laurent, watching his expression shift between blissful abandon and some valiant attempt at control. Abandon was the victor in the end, as Laurent's mouth dropped open in a silent cry, and he spilled into Damen's palm. The sight of his pleasure alone was enough to beckon Damen to join him in ecstasy.

Breath still came to Damen with difficulty when Laurent pushed himself from the bed and fetched a rag to clean himself, and Damen watched his quiet ritual without disrupting it. Laurent would soon come back to him.

After a moment Laurent did, deferential as he placed his crown atop the cushion awaiting it on the bedside chest, before climbing back up to join Damen with lazy kisses and hands that roamed gently, lovingly, over Damen's skin. They lay there a while longer, listening to the sounds of celebration still drifting through the open window, not a word passing between them to disturb it.

Their peace didn't last as long as Damen would have liked, however.

Laurent climbed from the bed again with a finality to his movements this time, and reluctantly Damen pushed himself up onto his elbows to watch what he was up to. He'd stepped towards the heavy chest of their effects at the foot of the bed, but instead of reaching for the fine silks of his coronation outfit that lay draped over the wooden lid, Laurent dressed in simple trousers and a loose shirt, the kind he favoured on the rare evenings he was free to enjoy the solitude of their chambers with no company save Damen and a book. He completed the look with a jacket that was too plain to be Veretian, and pulled from the chest a woollen cloak; blue, but not the rich sapphire of the Veretian royal colours, and not nearly as well made as any of Laurent's usual clothes.

Damen had seen it before. He knew what it meant.

Laurent twirled the cloak over his shoulders and pulled on its hood, low enough to well cover his hair. The golden prince — now golden king — was gone.

He looked back at Damen. "Let's rejoin the festivities, shall we?"

Damen grinned, and once he was dressed in similarly unobtrusive clothing he and Laurent slipped from their chambers, out of the fort, and into the night.


End file.
